rodrikstark's headcanons (part 2)

j. mace + peaceful moments at the beach

your weight shifts from one foot to the other, over and over. he doesn't like getting interrupted when he's working, but he hadn't emerged from behind his computer in hours. not even to get a drink of water.

and you miss him.

with a newfound surge of decisiveness, you knock twice, turning the knob. "jamie."

his eyes scan every inch of his computer screen but don't lift to see you. "hey, babe."

"i want to go the beach." you stand there, your palm wrapped tight around the sharp edge of the door as he types for several more seconds. you brace yourself against your own uneasiness. what if he says no?

his eyes flick up once before resuming his work. then, he stops, wheeling away from his desk. james notices, finally: the sandals strapped to your feet, your rain jacket slung over your arm, that pouty look. "what, now?"

"now."

— — —

you jog up the stairs of the wooden dock stretching into the dark blue water, careful not to slip. james stands at the end, leaning against the railing, allowing the spray coming off the high tides to dot all over his skin.

"look at this one," you whisper, tipping the shells and rocks from your pocket into your hand. even without pointing it out, he must know which one you're talking about: the quarter-sized white shell, pearlescent with swirling pinky-orange stripes.

"that's the biggest one yet." james plucks it out of your hand, putting it with the others—a dotted line of shells running down the middle of the wide railing. he had been guarding them while you meandered around, combing the sands.

"so pretty," you breathe, a grin on your face. with a satisfied sigh, you move to explore the last section of the beach you hadn't touched yet.

james grabs the material of your jacket at the small of your back, pulling you close. "c'mere for a sec."

relief: that he finally found his way out of that cavernous, smart brain of his—really, your only goal for this little day trip. with a shy step forward, you wedge yourself safely in front of him, facing the water.

you begin rearranging the shells and pebbles into concentric circles. once james catches on, he assists you, and together, you work in silence, letting only the sound of the water crashing against the coast fill the air.

he kisses your shoulder when you nudge the last tiny rock into its place. a murmur: "i don't want to leave."

leave the beach, or leave this planet? you're not sure, and you don't want him to tell you.

using the edge of your jacket sleeve, you wipe quickly at your cheek before suggesting, "we could stay here forever."

don't go, you think, hoping it transmits telepathically, somehow. don't go don't go don't go.

"you'd complain about it being too cold," he chuckles.

"i would not," you insist, even as you lean back into his solid, heated chest to escape the winds whipping at your clothes.

spinning around in his arms, you prepare yourself to see him sad, somber, somewhere far away again. instead, he looks almost content.

he kisses you, like he can't help it, and you find yourself plenty warm.

"we could stay," you promise, close enough that his stubble tickles your lips. "just like this."